Low Hangers and Low Spirits

One forgets when one is not blogging, how wonderful getting comments on blog posts feels.  Thank you guys for all your comments about yesterday's post regarding my impending plastic surgery consult.

Now for the results.

First, I decided to see Dr. Nathan Patterson.  Dr. Patterson came to speak at our WLS support group several years ago, and I remember liking him then bc a) he wasn't trying to sell us on his services, b) he was honest about expected results, and c) he was cute.

So Heather and I arrived at the appointment. 

First order of business, they take me back to the changing room, complete with a white fluffy robe, and they hand me my disposable blue panties fashioned from, I am pretty sure, paper towels and string.  On to the picture room and Heather was waiting for me.  Angie (the office coordinator?  Nurse?) set up the official camera, had me drop me little old robe, and started taking pictures of my belly and then my boobs.

At this point we got to feel some implants from a drawer and I probed Angie about her own boobies. 

Off to the exam room.  Angie hooked us up with an iPad so we could watch a little video, took my vitals, and made me weigh in.

Then we awaited the arrival of Dr. Patterson.

And hence he came.

While I was immediately struck by his eye-pleasing qualities, my heart reminded me that it would always belong to my favorite elective procedure surgeon and life saver, Dr. Friedman.  But it doesn't hurt to look ya know.

So Dr. Patterson has my pictures in his lap.  Beautiful little close up pictures of my tummy and boobs taken just minutes before.  He starts with the tummy.  And at first, I am confused because I didn't know if they were pictures of MY stomach or someone else's because they didnt look as bad as I picture my stomach.  They were indeed images of my sag though.  So he explains, in great detail, about how he would do a tummy tuck.

Here are the highlights:

-I keep my belly button
-I will have 2 drains.  One for about a week, the other for around 2 weeks.
-He will put disposable staples under my stomach coming down the middle of my stomach to bring my abs back together (they can come apart after babies or being fat)
-He will lipo a little off the side
-My scar will be above my pubic line
-I will be able to return to work after 2 weeks, but he recommends 3.

We talk about my port.  He said he will talk to Dr. Friedman about replacing my port with a low profile port during the tummy tuck.

We talk more in detail.

We move to the boobies.

Now, although I felt relieved with the pictures of my stomach, I was mortified with the pictures of my boobs.  I reckon this is because I have seen my stomach in many photographs (I wear a bikini for goodness sakes), but I have never seen my saggy boobs in a 8 x 10 picture.  They were/are horrible. 

Here are the highlights:

-I would need a lift and implants
-The implant would be put in under my fold in my boob
-I would have a keyhole incision around my nipple and down my boob (from the lift)
-He recommended not going too big, somewhere around 275-300cc's.  This made me happy.
-I would be getting silicon.  Not saline
-The implant would be under my muscle

He demonstrated how durable the implants are (Heather is worried I will pop one during a mud race).  No worries he said.

He answered more of our questions.  He really was amazing.  He sold Heather...and she is a hard sell.

He said in a perfect world where time and money were not an issue, he would recommend 2 surgeries.  One would be the tummy tuck and a lift, and the other would be placing the implants.  But he said that because I am young and healthy, we could do it all at once.

So when we finish up with Dr. Patterson, we go to the room to wait for the different write ups for how much this will cost us.

I had imagined somewhere around $10k-$12k for everything.

Well it turns out that everything will run me $22k.

I just stared at the girl and smiled and tried to NOT cry and not let her see my heartbreak.

She left the room.  I cried.  But just a little.  While she was gone Heather told me we could make it work.  We could borrow from our retirement, I could use her credit cards.  If I wanted it, she would make it happen.

But I am so torn now.

On one hand, that is more than my brand new car.  And it's all for vanities sake.
On the other hand, money is money and like Heather said, we will spend it one way or the other.

On one hand, I feel selfish for making Heather spend her money to fix a body that I ruined.
On the other hand, it would mean so much to me.

This is why I didnt want to go to the consult.  I was afraid this would happen.  For it to seem so close, yet so far away.

I got home and took off my clothes and stood in front of the mirror.  I lifted my saggy little girls up.  I touched my stomach. I pulled it back, lifted it up.  I bent over and watched how everything stretched and sagged. 

And then I sat on the bed and cried.

I should just be able to love myself.  If I could accept myself for what I am, I could save tens of thousands of dollars.  That money could be used for our wedding...if it is ever legal.  It could buy us a boat.  It could pay student loans.

But I don't know if I can.

I don't know if I can ever not loathe these parts of my body.

So I am undecided.  And confused.  And stressed.

And we are juicing for 7 days.  Did I mention that?  And this is day one.  SO I CAN"T EVEN DRINK!  OR EAT COOKIES!

Damn the world.

xoxox

Do Your Boobs Hang Low?

Do They Wobble To and Fro

Can You Tie Them In A Knot

Can You Tie Them In A Bow?

If you can answer yes to the above children's song altered to speak to many a weight loss patient, then it may be time to consider...

A Boob Job

Friday I finally called and made a consultation for plastic surgery.  Amy Workman may be getting plastic surgery.  I can't wait for that to show up in a google search.

Let's rewind.  Let's begin from the beginning.

My grandma Roether had big boobies.  She was a big lady.  My mom never had big boobies, even when she was a bigger lady.  My boobies were always pretty big.  But I was always bigger.  I owned several DD creations in my time.  I would say though, on average, I was a D.  My cup sometimes spilleth over.  Even before losing weight though, my girls were heading south.  I actually don't remember a perky stage, although certainly there had to be one.  I DO recall watching Whoopie Goldberg once, and she had some joke about how you knew your boobs were saggy when you could put a pencil underneath one, let go, lift your hands in the air, and the pencil would remain right where you left it.  Under your saggy old lady tits.  I had to be in my teens.  

But when I started losing weight after lapband, I didnt think I would ever get plastic surgery.  I have always had a little negative connotation to the falsies.  My judgement doesn't carry over to others...but only pertains to me.  I sort of have the same feeling towards fake nails.  When someone says "Hey, nice nails"...they aren't really complimenting YOUR nails.  They are complimenting your plastic nails.  You did not grow them.  You did not nuture them.  You bought them.

Same holds true to fake boobs.  They would never be "mine".  Here is a better example.  If someone compliments my arms, or my back muscles...well I worked hard for those.  I put in time and sacrificed for those.  They are mine.  I grew them from little acorns.  I try to recognize that I get highlights in my hair.  And if someone says they love my hair, well I take that damn praise...so what's the difference?  I don't know if there is.  

But after losing this weight, my boobs are no longer boobs.  For those of you who have been with this little blog for years, you know that long ago my boobs became knee high socks with ping pong balls in the end.  You know that when I am clothed, one may believe I actually have boobs.  But hiding underneath my cute fitted tee is the terrible truth...skin just pooled in a C cup.

Heather loves my non-boobies.  She likes hunting for my nipples that are hiding in my arm pits.  She likes to swat at the girls as they sway back and forth.  She finds me, and the chi-chi's beautiful.  I on the other hand, get distracted by them.  I am a naked person.  I like to walk around topless.  Not at Taco Bell or Target, but at home...clothes are restrictive.  But it's dangerous.  I can't cook bacon with these girls flinging abouts.  I can't bake cookies.  I might shut one in the oven.  I have to hold them when I brush my teeth.  I have to hold them when I bend over to pet our pigs.  I am always aware of them.

Our friend from work recently had a tummy tuck and boob job.  She is our age, had gastric 10 years ago, and now weighs around 130.  She has shared her pictures and kept me updated over the last 3 weeks.  It's funny how open she is with her pictures.  We are not besties, and she works out with Heather more than I do, so when she first sent me a full frontal pre-op and one week post-op, I thought it was pretty awesome.  I also understood how she could do that.  For her, and for me, and maybe for you...our bodies after this weight loss don't really feel like our bodies.  Take a picture of our torso, and omit our heads, you are looking at the body of an 80 year old.  There is a disconnect.  But it was her openness and honesty that made me finally pick up the damn phone and call for a consult.

Because here is the truth.  I joke so much, with anyone who will listen, about the state of my body underneath my clothes.  But it makes me so sad.  If I really give myself time to contemplate my boobs and stomach, I immediately tear up.  It's hateful.  And hurtful.  And can make me so angry.  I work pretty hard for my body.  But no amount of work can fix decades of being fat.  And that is disheartening.  

So, by making a call and going to an appointment, I am allowing myself to hope. And that is scary. Because what if I can't afford it?  I can barely afford the consultation fee of $100.  What if he tells me everything he can do and I can't get it done?  I will be heartbroken.  

But I am going.  And Heather says we will make it happen one way or another.  I love her,

But let's get to my other fears.

What if I get my boobs done and they are huge and I hate them?  I don't want big huge Pamela Anderson knockers.  What if I get boobs and a tummy tuck and can't work out for weeks and weeks and I lose all my muscle (I GET that I may be exaggerating just a smidge).  What if Heather hates them?  What if people judge me?

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But there is good news for you guys.  If I am going to do this, you will get full coverage.  You will see pictures.  You will know what it feels like (from my perspective).  You will get to hold my hand and send my presents or pain killers.

Tomorrow friends.  Tomorrow.  

Shit...I almost broke out into a song from Annie.

Until then.  Hugs, kisses, and motorboats.

Yours-Amy

Fellow Losers, Gainers, and Weight Loss Maintainers

There are a couple of things that I thought would never happen.  Let's start small.

Skinny Jeans

Listen, there was a time that I am sure I have uttered something along the lines of "I will NEVER EVER wear skinny jeans"...probably accompanied by a sentence like "Just because they fit, doesn't mean you should wear them"...

but then something started to happen.  I started to see curvy ladies like myself wearing skinny jeans and well...well...they kinda worked.  So I trotted to the Loft (because they have "curvy" cut that is actually cut for curvy girls...and I tried on some skinny ankle length jeans just for shits and giggles...

and I kind of dug them. 

Here they are.  Size 8.

Anyways.  To add to this shocking turn of events, I have since bought a WHITE pair of skinny jeans.  I know.

Call me crazy.

The Day My Nipple Almost Went to Heaven

I was gifted by a friend who won a massage at a race in April.  This would be my third massage (let us pronounce massage as MUH-SAH-Geee because it is more fun) in about 4 years.  It lasted two hours.  That's a lot of time ya know?  Anywhoozle, the first hour was a "stretching" session and then came the orders "Get undressed to whatever level you are comfortable" and he exited the room. 

I am always faced with a dilemma at this point. 

Because my level of comfortable when it comes to being naked is...well...NAKED.  And I just don't ever know if they mean it?  Will he be okay if my little lady hairs poke through the sheet?  WILL HE?  So I got naked. He reenters, Muh-sah-gee begins.  The table is heated.  I no likey the heat.  But we begin face down.  My nipple must be wadded up in my boob skin...which aggravates the situation, because the heated table must be turned up from 'nice and warm' to 'sautee'...and I am pretty sure my nipple was starting to burn. 

It was on fire.

Now, by some cruel joke of creation, my nipples don't have a lot of sensitivity to begin with.  Seriously...if Heather were to try to entertain them, and my eyes were closed....I would probably have no idea.  So, for my nipple and brain synapses to be joined in partnerhood to alert me that things were wrong...well the situation was serious.  So I tried to readjust.  I tried to un-wad my boob.  I tried to raise my body just a little to relieve the annihilation of my nipple.  Finally, there was some relief and I was able to hold out until he finally said "flip over"....

Thank sweet Jesus.

A Quick Trip To Cali

We have a part of our company that is based in California.  I had been working on building some team exercises with this team and on a Thursday they asked me if I would mind flying out to California to lead them on the following Monday...

um...let me think about it...

OKAY.  So off I went to Monterrey.

I havent even been to Monterey, but after stepping off the plane to a beautiful 60 degrees (only a 50 40 degree difference from Pensacola), I decided I would need to relocate.  Long story short, I had a great little trip and snapped a picture on my way to the team building.  I titled this Business Barbie, Curvy Edition.

Ooow Ahh Ohhh

Friends.  I promise I blog to you in my head on.the.regular.  I SO wish that they had developed the technology, which I could purchase used on Amazon at a discounted rate, that would enable my thoughts to automatically feed to Blogger, thus eliminating the need to make time to actually put fingertip to keys and create a damn post!

You dig?

I know you do.

It has been nearly a month since my last confession.

Thank you all for both your kind words on my post about my Shelbs and for your love and cyber applause for our engagement. 

I have some good news and some bad news.  First the bad.  Shelby hasn't come back to life.  Although I have had some crAZYYYY dreams about that very thing.  And second, the good news.  We are STILL engaged!

Whew. 

Now.  Somethings we should also talk about. 

The Most Exciting Part of My Journey is Happening Right Now

Who would have thought that 4.5 years after lapband I would still be finding and discovering new and exciting things tied to weight loss and my body?  Oh man.  I just had a BRILLIANT idea.  Have you guys seen those candles that have a ring buried down deep in the wax, and you burn the candle to get the ring which may, or may not be, a giant piece of crap?  What if they buried a jewel in our fat pre-surgery and then as the fat melted away (candle reference...you see how I just did that), we would be closer and closer to getting the ring...until one day we just POP it out...like a little pimple...but with a diamond or opal in it instead of puss.

I know.  Puss is a disgusting word.

But seriously.

Think about it.

Anyways, back to what I was originally talking about.  Just to recap, at the beginning of March I decided to recommit to healthier eating, more cardio, less processed food, and just DOING BETTER overall.  Since then, I have lost 35 pounds.  And I think that these last 35 pounds have been the proudest l.b's of all my 170 pounds lost.  Let me tell you why.

I have worked very hard for each and every one of those pounds over the last several months.  My lapband had very little to do with the loss.  And that's not to say the pounds that I lost over the first 4 years I didn't have to work for, because I absolutely did...but these last ones were sweat and tears and making real changes.  At first, I didn't know how I was going to work out more...or how I was going to work out any differently than I already was.  But adding straight cardio seemed to be the only answer.  I started doing the ARC (like the elliptical) for 60 minutes a day in addition to circuit, bootcamp, or tough mudder training).  I started running 3-5 miles, at least 3 times a week.  I was, and I am still, doing two-a-days.  I wake up around 440am, go to Planet Fitness, do at least 3 miles and then do targeted weight lifting.  Then I do a class at work, either circuit or bootcamp).  Every once in awhile I did 3 workouts a day...but that was really to support my friends or coworkers that needed a workout buddy.

On Monday I weighed in at 158.

I have never weighed 150-anything. 

The amazing things, the nonscale victories that are new to me:

1.  Running is so much easier 30-35 pounds lighter.  I am not sure if I am much faster (I am doing a real 5k tomorrow so I will see what I can pull out under pressure), but my knees never bother me when I am running.  Before, my right knee would twinge most of the time.

2.  Seeing my muscles and definition gets me a little excited.  Seriously.  Sometimes when I am working out at the gym and looking in the mirror, I wanna make out with myself.  Just a little.  Light petting.  All above the waist.  But the loss of some of my insulation that covered my muscles that were already there, combined with really focusing on building them up a little more, has gave way to a body I really like. 

3.  When I am wearing clothes.  I feel amazing.  I am proud of myself.  I feel like I look healthy and fit.  My muffin top is gone, my stomach is flat, my ass is round...and even my damn thighs...the last thing to go and the parts of my body that want to hang on to all the fat possible...have slimmed up.  Now I should point out that I said when I am wearing CLOTHES I feel amazing.  Naked is another story.  Naked I still hate certain parts of my body.  There are moments when I catch a glimpse of my back and see the muscle definition...and I smile.  Or when I turn sideways and see how small my waist is and how my lower back curves so nicely into my butt...but the lower stomach skin, my saggy boobs, the insides of my thighs, and my bat wings haunt me.  They make me so so sad.  And I know that stomping around or dwelling on them for long will not magically fix them.  AND I know I can't really say "BUT IT'S NOT FAIR!  It's not fair that I work so hard and still look like a melted candle"...because it is fair.  Because I made some very poor choices for about 3 decades.  And I can fix some of it with plastic surgery I suppose. I finally got the nerve up to send an email to request a boob lift consultation.  They haven't emailed me back.  It's been about a month.  I am working on getting the lady balls to actually call them.  I think I am just scared that they will cost to much, or that they will need to lift AND do implants and then I will have huge unnatural knockers....I am scared to get my hopes up that there IS hope...and then not be able to do it.  And although I never thought I would do a tummy tuck, I might some day.  I wear bikini's all the time, and I would just love for the skin not to be there.  As for the inner thighs, I don't think I would ever be able to pay or want to go through a lower body lift.  Short shorts just may never be able to be in my future.  I think I can deal with that.

Also coming to visit lately is my port.

This was about 10 pounds ago, and of course my port baby has been poking out for years.  But now it's super noticeable in most of the shirts I wear.  At work, one of my coworkers said the other day "What is THAT" as I was walking down the hallway.  Heather is concerned and wants me to talk to Dr. Friedman about switching it out for the low profile port.  I probably will do that sometime I guess.  Just see what my options are.  It bruises every once in a while, and we are signed up for every mud run in the southern United States, so scaling walls or climbing things may be a bad idea with port baby sticking out.

 

I also have no pants that fit.  Work pants I mean.  Not one pair.  Which is GREAT, but also sucks.  I bought a pair of black banana republic slacks and in one week...too big.  Which is another crazy thing about being this size and weight.  Remember when it took 40 pounds to lose a size?  Now I can lose a size in about 8 pounds.  I am a size 8 now for the most part, although I do have jeans in size 10 and even a size 12 that I can still wear. 

 

I have more pictures and more news to share, but I better get ready for work!  Happy Friday friends!  Let the weekend begin!

 

xoxox

1 Week Ago Tomorrow...

I had to make the most heartbreaking decision of my life.  I had to take my dog Shelby to the vet to be put down.  Shelby, also known as Pappy (yes, Shelby was a HE), had been my guy for a very very long time.  14 years to be precise.  I had moved out of my parents house, got my first apartment, and practically went straight to the shelter to pick out my first puppy.  I will never forget that Shelby was sitting in a kennel with a Dalmatian that kept stealing his food.  I took him into the little visitation room, he crawled up into my lap, stuck his nose in my armpit, and that was it.  I was sold.  I took my 3 month old puppy home to my new apartment where, while I was in the bathroom, he managed to chew up all the carpet around the fireplace and shit on my new washcloths (yes...they were on the floor...I was 19 okay?!)

But we stuck it out.  Through moves, terrible choices in men, across state lines...we was always with me.  Over the last year or so, he started to have trouble walking.  We have linoleum in the main section of our house, and at times, Shelby was like Bambi on the ice.  But his spirit was still in tact...and he would manage to slip and slide all over for a treat or peanut butter pill sammie.   But for awhile now, you could tell his mind was slipping.  He would bark or yelp for no reason.  Sometimes for 15-20 minutes at a time.  It was kinda like we was a Vietnam vet that wasn't quite sure where he was when he woke up and he was always waiting for Charlie to come out of of the jungle.

Two weeks ago I took him to the vet and she told me basically he had doggie dementia.  That he wasn't in pain, but I had to start thinking about end of life procedures...and that at some point I was "keeping him alive for my comfort, not his".  I started bawling and repeating "I'm not ready for that yet".  So she sent me home with some crazy meds (for him).

I have been saying for awhile I wish he didn't seem so happy to be alive...like if he WAS in pain or had seemed to give up, at least it would make the choice a little easier...

And last Tuesday it happened.  Heather got home before I did and found Shelby half in/half out the doggie door...breathing...but unable to walk.  I don't want to think about how long he had been there like that.  So she called me and told me to hurry home...and that it was time.

I got home, scooped him up...and Heather drove us to the vet.  She went in and arranged everything while we waited in the car.  She couldn't go back with me, but I wasn't sending him back alone.

When we got back there it was so so hard.  I've never had to put a pet down before.  The vet came in and told me how it would go...asked if I was ready...and she started.  And then it was over. 

Just like that.

And...that's all I can type about that part.  I get to pick up his ashes on Monday.

I took the next day off.  Crying and cleaning the house, changing around the dog beds...trying to remove visual cues.  Heather was amazing.  Very patient with me.  Cried with me.  Talked me through it.

Coming home is different and probably the hardest part of my day.  I am used to that crazy bastard waiting for me with a look of hunger in his eyes (he was a Workman after all...we are always starving).  I know they don't get to live as long as us.  And that sucks.  And I know you have to think about what a great life you gave them and that they gave you.  But it doesn't really make it easier.  I am selfish and want him with me always.  But I know if there is a better place...that if our spirits don't go with us to the dirt...that he is somewhere biting ankles, riding on SeaDoos, and eating all the food is fat belly can hold.

xoxo

If You Like It You Should've Put a Ring on It

On May 22nd, 2013...the most unbelievable thing happened.  It still makes me close my eyes and breathe deep and relive the moment while I feel the smile start to spread. 

It was Heather's 36th birthday and she had been arranging a birthday party for herself for several weeks.  She invited people.  She picked the place. 

And all the while...I thought it was a little odd that she was planning a birthday party...because she doesnt really LIKE birthday parties.  But oh well, she is getting up there in age ya know so I thought maybe she was warming up to the idea of celebrations.

I guess she had expected about 6 people to come.  About 18 showed up. 

No worries.  The Fish House accommodated us.

Heather's brother Corbin came down and they had rode together.  Travis and I rode with my sister, in order to get there early and make sure we could get a table or 8.  Well Heather and Corbin were taking forever to get to her own damn party...so I was getting just a teensy weensy bit annoyed.  They finally showed up though and the party got under way.  The entire time though, Heather was acting all anxious...even more than normal.  I was going to go get her birthday cupcakes  out of the truck and she wouldn't let me.  She said that she would get them.  Or Corbin could get them.  Which made no sense to me and so I got a little more teensy weensy bit annoyed...but tried to be the good girlfriend and not concern myself with why my girlfriend was crazy.

Then, she stood up.  And started talking. 

And I was said out loud, to no one in particular "Is she giving a birthday speech"?  Heather doesn't talk by choice in front of groups. 

And then she started thanking everyone for coming and started to get choked up...to which I thought to myself "WOw, she must be really happy that everyone came to help her celebrate"...

And then she reached across me and Corbin handed her a box.  She said "Hopefully this will be the best birthday ever"...

And she got down on one knee. 

Here is the video.  If you can watch it, look how nervous Heather is.  Our friend Natalie is filming, because Heather is supposed to be standing up.  She is pretending to look at pictures with Travis.  Watch Heather rub the chair and breathe, and then rub the chair....

And said "I love you. Will you marry me?"

At some point, I snatched the ring from her hand and put it on my finger.  Damn it! I was just so excited.

It was really the most surreal moment of my life.  Never in my life would I have thought that when and if she finally proposed, that she would do it in public...and in front of people.  I thought maybe in the back yard while picking up dog poop she might just stop and give me a ring. 

But no.  She did all of it for me.  It was never a birthday party for her, that was just a way to get everyone there.  And she had picked Fish House because 3 years ago that's where we came out as a couple to most of our work friends....and did naughty things in the bathroom...and standing up in public, and sneaking around behind my back for weeks to find me the most perfect ring and having the ring built...that was all for me.

It was beautiful.  And it was perfect.  And my sister was there, and her brother was there, and our closest friends...

And it made me so happy.  I can't really explain it.  I can't do it justice.

So I am engaged!!!  Who knows when the wedding will be!  Heather's rule is that it has to be legal in the state we live in...so it could be a few months, or a few years.  We will cross that bridge when we come to it.  Ya'll better start saving up for a trip to Florida for a wedding though!!  It's gonna be one hell of a party :)

The double headed gold unicorn was a gift to heather from my friend Travis.  It is the tackiest thing ever and we saw it at a used game shop...we couldn't miss the opportunity to snap a little photo with it.

The Tough Mudder Recap

So many things have happened over the last couple of weeks...I have no idea where to begin...so after much debate, I thought I would just go chronologically!  On May 18th, after being signed up for this damn race for about 9 long long months, we arrived in Palatka, Florida (near Jacksonville) for Tough Mudder.

 

We have been training and preparing since January 1 really.  While we didnt have to have a themed costume of choice for our team, I wanted to look fabulous, so after much debate we decided to go with "SuperHeros/Alter Egos".  Carmen and I were Wonder Woman, together...WonderWomen.  Heather was the Hulk, we also had 2 captain americas, 1 superman, 1 batwoman, 1 robin, 1 SuperWoman, and 1 AquaMan.

 

We arrived clean and pretty.

 

Then the signs leading to registration started.

This is one of our obstacles.   You had to climb over these mud piles.  This was one of the easiest...and just the beginning.

Below is the second to last obstacle.  After 10 miles of running, running, some more running, and about 20 different obstacles, we were expected to run up this damn ramp and pray that we were able to get over it.  It was the one obstacle I feared I physically could not complete.  Mama's got no ups.  However, there were some angel's at the top in the bodies of three really strong men with bulging muscles and tank tops.  I made eye contact before my short stubby legs put me in motion and said "you sure you got all this"...to which they all nodded.  So off I went and sweet baby mongoose, they caught my hands and pulled me up.  I love them.  Wherever they are.

The worst obstacle of all obstacles...well...there were two...was the electric shock obstacles.  There are hanging wires, with alternating currents.  Some wires are live, some are dead.  So when you first start running or crawling, you are thinking "hmmm...this isn't bad"...and then one of those live wires hits you.  And it takes you down my friends.  It takes you down.  This is Natalie picture below...being knocekd to the ground by the shock.  I ate it as well.  Face first...into cowshit.

Some of our fabulous Team.

 

Now this is the worst of all obstacles, one which I didnt really fear because I am from Kansas and I have swam in mud lakes in early March...was called the Arctic Enema.  They take trash dumpsters and fill them with colored water and ICE.  ICE ICE ICE.  Several weeks prior, at a race in Pennsylvania, a man died on another obstacle from the shock of cold water, so we entered the race with "life partners"...like a buddy system.  Carmen was my buddy.

This is Heather, emerging from the ice...with a smile on her face.

And this is me and my best superhero side kick jumping in.  It was worse than I could have ever imagined.  You go underwater and coming up in shock.  You can't really get your breath.  It's painful.  You want to die.  And then they make you go back under water to go under that piece of wood there and come back up on the other side.  Well I went under...and Carmen never came up with me.  I thought she was dying.  I thought I had to go back under to save her...I couldn't MOVE!  But I managed to gasp out to Heather and Sean "Carmen....Carmen...she.is.dying...."

And as everyone ran to help, she emerged.  Looking like this.  Bless her heart.  She had waited to go under the wood.  She wasn't dying.  But it was terrible.  TERRIBLE.

I will tell you that for the first 6 miles or so I had it going on.  I was cheering and singing and chanting.  I was feeling goooood.  Then, the shit cramps came upon me.  Stomach cramping.  And the blisters started.  And you know...my mood shifted a tad.  There was one beautiful obstacle, that was a trench dug out and full of water with a cage over it.  You had to crawl in the water, roll over face up, and pull yourself through the trench by grabbing on to the cage.  Just your nose, mouth, eyes were out of the water.  I loved it.  It was peaceful.  The water was cool. 

Heather hated it.  It was her least favorite obstacle.

We finished though.  Finished in under 3 hours.  11 miles. 

I can't wait to do another one.  My girlfriend has lost her mind and has signed us up for every mudder race that is semi-close by over the next year.  The Savage Race, The Spartan Run, The Warrior Dash...

They are tough and slightly stupid, but it is amazing being able to do them with Heather and some of the people I love the most.